Every Step She Takes
by em j
Summary: …he’ll be watching her. The aftermath of a horrific accident forces Grissom and Sara closer together. GSR angst, infrequent strong language.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Brass," Sara murmured, without looking up from the microscope.

"Hey, Sara. What are you still doing here?"

"Unofficial overtime. Probably unpaid," she replied with a tired smile.

"Overworked and underappreciated, huh?"

"Something like that." She pulled her eyes away from the evidence she had been examining and pushed herself, in her chair, over to the computer. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"I was actually going to offer you a lift home."

Sara smiled gratefully but shook her head. "I'm fine, honestly."

"I've got to visit a witness and I'm going that way anyway."

"I really should finish up here."

"You'll be back for the next shift before you know it. Besides, as you're not being paid…" He trailed off with a small smile as he saw Sara cave in.

"Thanks, just give me a minute."

I I I I I

A few minutes later Sara and Brass were driving through the busy streets of Las Vegas with the car windows down as far as they would go.

"This is some heat," Sara commented.

Brass glanced at the dashboard. "It's just pushing ninty. We've known worse."

"I think I blank out the hottest days. I always imagine it can't get much worse that this."

"Lightweight," Brass joked.

"I spent too much time on the East Coast, that's all."

"I will admit I would be happier myself had the air conditioning in this car not packed up," Brass confessed. "Not least because the breeze through these windows wreaks havoc with my hair."

Sara laughed and stared out at the crowds of tourists wandering the streets. Some had handheld electric fans or bottles of water. Others were making futile attempts to cool themselves with makeshift fans; maps, leaflets, guidebooks and magazines. She even noticed one man struggling desperately to create a breeze using one of his own shoes. Las Vegas was an eccentric city and eccentric places attracted eccentric people. Lord knows, some of the cases they had seen proved that.

The sound of Brass' radio fizzing and crackling brought Sara's attention back to the car. A voice sounded very distant and Sara could only make out a few words.

"Give it a whack," Brass instructed. "It can be a bit temperamental at times." Sara did this and instantly the reception was clearer, but the man had just stopped talking.

"Shall I?" she asked.

"Go ahead."

She picked up the radio and requested a repeat.

"Can you confirm your location?" asked the voice through the radio. Sara did this.

"Is this Captain Brass' radio?"

It's me, Larry," Brass called out. "What can we do for you?"

"We got some joy-riders just round the corner from you. Thought you might want to get you some rowdy teenagers."

Brass turned to Sara. "What do you think?"

Sara smiled. "A good old fashioned police chase? Why not?"

I I I I I

Grissom was poring over some books when Catherine knocked on the door and cautiously walked in.

"Am I disturbing anything?" she asked.

"Nothing that can't wait," Grissom replied, shutting the book he had been studying and looking up at her.

"Have you seen Sara?"

He glanced at his watch. "Her shift's over."

"But she mentioned doing overtime."

"Sorry – I don't know."

"Can I give you this then?" She held out a file. "There were a couple of things that needed checking. I though Sara could do it, but –"

Grissom took it. "I'll deal with it."

"Thanks."

As Catherine left the room Grissom began to flick through the file. After a few moments he picked up the phone and called a number he had on speed dial. When the call was answered he could hear the sound of sirens at the other end, close in the background.

"Grissom?" Sara's voice was barely audible over the surrounding noise.

"Sara? I can hardly hear you."

"This isn't really the best time."

"Where are you?"

"I'm with Brass," Sara yelled as the background sounds seemed to increase in intensity.

"Why?"

"Can this wait?"

"Catherine thought you were doing overtime."

"I was, but Brass offered me a lift home."

"He put the sirens on to take you home?"

"No, Grissom." Sara sounded frustrated now and Grissom suddenly felt embarrassed by his interrogation. It was outside working hours so how was Sara's journey home anything to do with him? "Can I get back to you?" she asked.

Grissom was about to agree and apologise when he heard Brass' voice crying out in the background. "Shit! Sara get down!"

"Sara?" Grissom shouted down the phone. But she did not reply. Instead he heard the sound of gunshots, followed by screaming. Then the line went dead.

I I I I I

Sara ended the call as she lowered her head beneath the level of the windscreen. "Brass?" she cried out. "What the hell's going on?" She could hear the screech of brakes as cars tried to get out of the way of the car chase, people screaming each time a shot rang out.

"Stupid kids," Brass spat.

"Kids with guns?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

The car made a sudden jerk to the left. Sara's stomach turned upside down. She wished she had her gun with her; she would show these kids the consequences of firing at her on her way home. A new round of shots rang out.

"Get down, Sara!" Brass yelled again, steering madly to keep on the road behind the joy-riders whilst avoiding other traffic and petrified pedestrians.

All of a sudden Sara lost the confidence her anger had given her and felt scared. It was a horrible feeling to be totally dependant on someone else, albeit it someone she trusted like Brass. She was used to being in control in every situation.

"Is it worth it, Brass? They're stupid kids!" She raised her head slightly. On seeing the determination on Brass' eyes, wide and focused on the road ahead, she realised the futility of her words.

"Down, Sara!"

She placed her head between her legs, imitating the brace position. If it was good for plane crashes maybe it would work for high speed police chases. Catching sight of a sweet wrapper on the car floor she decided to focus on it.

_It had red and white stripes._

She heard the sound of another gunshot.

_It was slightly torn._

The car swerved dramatically to the left.

_It looked like a peppermint wrapper._

Screaming as the car bounced dangerously onto one side.

_Sara could really murder a peppermint right now._

The car bounced once more upside down, then onto its other side before turning nearly upright again.

Sara had no more thoughts about the sweet wrapper. Or anything.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for all the reviews everyone, I really appreciate knowing that people are reading! _

_Em x _

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Screaming everywhere. The smell of burning rubber – tyres against tarmac. Brass could feel something warm and sticky running down his forehead as he blinked himself back into reality. He reached up and gently touched his wound. Flinching, he removed his hand and saw the blood on it. Had the kids got away? He pulled himself up into a more upright position, ignoring the searing pains up his back. His head spun and he screwed his eyes shut to rid them of the flashing spots. What had happened? The gunshot – it must have got the car, probably a tyre. He had not been able to keep it under control. There had been screaming. Screams everywhere. Sara – oh God, Sara. Brass forced his eyes open and turned to his passenger.

"Sara!" he cried out. "Speak to me – are you alright?" His chest felt compressed and he could barely catch his breath. Sara's head was covered with blood like his own. Her eyes were shut and her face looked drained of blood. But it was when he looked down her body that his heart missed a beat. Where her right leg should have been was a tangle of metal, where the car had been crushed by the blows it had suffered, and blood. "Oh, shit," Brass murmured. "Sara, wake up," he begged. Looking past her and out of the right hand window he saw crowds of people. Some had their heads in their hands, shocked; others were staring with grim fascination.

"Call an ambulance!" he yelled. "Now!"

I I I I I

Grissom had pressed redial on his phone ten times now but he kept being told the number he was trying to reach was unavailable. He could not rid his stomach of a horrible sinking feeling.

He noticed Nick walking past his door and called out for him.

"Hey, Griss, I was just on my way out."

"I won't keep you. Have you heard from Sara recently?"

"Yeah, I just spoke to her."

Grissom's heart leapt. "Is she alright?"

Nick look puzzled. "She was a bit fed up with doing overtime but otherwise, yeah," he replied. "You can see her yourself – she's just down there in the lab."

Now it was Grissom's turn to be puzzled. "When you say 'just seen her', what do you mean?"

"I don't know – maybe thirty minutes ago?"

That horrible feeling returned to Grissom's stomach. "Right."

"Why? Anything urgent?"

Grissom took a deep breath to calm himself. "No," he replied. "Nothing urgent. See you later."

Nick shot Grissom a confused glance. "Sure."

As he left the room, Grissom picked up the phone one last time.

I I I I I

Brass' head was pounding by the time he heard the approaching ambulances. "Oh, thank God," he murmured, before turning to Sara. "Hear that, Sara? They're coming to help you. You're going to be fine." There was still no response.

Suddenly Brass became aware of a phone ring tone. He looked out the window but quickly realised the sound was coming from inside the car. He looked over at Sara. Her eyelids were flickering, as if the sound of her phone had prompted something inside her to wake up.

"Sara?" Brass said, gently. "Can you hear me?"

A small groaning sound rose from Sara's throat as her eyes slowly blinked open.

"It's ok," Brass reassured her. "Everything's going to be ok."

"My phone," Sara whispered. She lifted a hand cautiously, as if testing what her body could manage.

"Don't move, Sara," Brass instructed her and she returned her hand to its original position, startled by the mixture of fear and concern in his voice. "I'll get it."

"It's in my left pocket." Her head was swimming now and her body felt wrong; something was not right. She felt Brass remove the phone from her trousers and glanced down at her legs.

By the time Brass answered the phone she had lost consciousness again.

I I I I I

Grissom had not been able to believe it when the phone rang on his eleventh attempt. It rang for what felt like forever but he did not dare hang up. Eventually his patience was rewarded.

"Hello?" The voice was weak, unclear and Grissom could hear ambulances – oh God, ambulances – in the background. Yet he still recognized the sound of his friend speaking.

"Jim?"

"Gil?"

"Where are you?"

Brass gave a simple answer to a simple question. Grissom hardly dared ask anything else but he knew he had to.

"What happened?"

He heard Brass draw a deep breath. "Stupid kids. They shot at the car. I swerved. The car went over."

It was a much abridged story but Grissom did not want or need to hear more right now. "Are you alright?"

"The ambulances are just arriving."

"That's not an answer, Jim."

"I'm talking, aren't I?"

"And Sara?" The million dollar question, blurted out because Grissom could no longer hold it back.

"I think you better get down here." Wrong answer.

I I I I I

The sound of footsteps approaching the car window, still open from his and Sara's attempts to cool own, drew Brass' attention from the phone call. A paramedic's head appeared as he crouched down beside the door. "Hello, sir, what's your name?"

"I'm Captain Jim Brass, Las Vegas Police Department." In times of trouble, revert to formality.

"Ok, Jim, we're going to get you out of here as quickly as possible."

The immediate use of his first name annoyed Brass but he did not have the energy to protest. "Help her first." He signalled to Sara.

"My colleagues are just about to help her, sir."

Seeing a group of paramedics arrive at Sara's door, Brass decided to give in. "My head hurts but other than that, I think I'm fine."

"You stay still whilst I open the door and we'll be the judge of that."

I I I I I

By the time Grissom arrived at the scene of the accident the crowds were thinning. He still had to push his way through, however, to reach an ambulance into which Brass was being led. Dried blood on his forehead and looking extremely pale, his eyes betrayed pain beyond that of his wound.

"I'm sorry, Gil."

Grissom's stomach did a somersault. He thought he might throw up. No, surely not. "Sara-" he stammered. Brass pointed towards the car. The passenger side was dented and battered, but there were still paramedics crowded around it. That had to mean there was hope. "What are they doing?"

"They have to wait for the fire services."

Grissom's brain struggled to keep up. "Fire?"

"They have to cut her out, Gil. They think she's going to lose her leg."


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks again for all the reviews - I'm slightly overwhelmed, as I'm not used to this many - thanks everyone!_

_**Sara2006**- Greetings to Germany! I go there quite regularly as I'm studying German, and I love it!_

_**Beckster** - I do appreciate you, really!_

_**stareagle **- Thank you so much for the constructive criticism, it really helps. I can completely see where you're coming from and Ithink you may well be right. Really what happened was that when I wrote, that's just how it turned out! However,I do totally agree about Brass feeling guilty, as you will see in this chapter, hopefully!_

_Enjoy, I hope..._

_Em x _

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Sara felt as though she was watching herself from a distance. As her eyes flickered open she felt totally detached from her body. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her heart began to race as she noted a crowd of paramedics talking to each other in front of the car. She tried to look down but a brace around her neck prevented her from doing so. Her eyes flicked right. The car door had been removed. Left. Brass was not there. She forced a low moan from her throat. In an instant a woman's head appeared at the door.

"Sara?" she said, a tone of urgency underpinning her voice. "Can you hear me?"

"Brass," was the first name that Sara could think off.

"Captain Brass has gone to hospital. He's going to be fine." Relief washed over Sara. The paramedic reached out for her hand and gently lifted it, feeling her pulse. "I'd like you to keep as still as possible for me, Sara. We're going to get you out of here as soon as possible."

"What's wrong?" Sara whispered hoarsely. "I can't feel my body."

The woman smiled reassuringly. "We gave you some drugs, Sara. If you can't feel anything, that's normal."

A memory of looking down earlier hit Sara; there had been so much blood. "My leg-" she asked desperately.

The paramedic's smile faltered, but only for a moment. "You'll be in hospital before you know it."

It did not escape Sara's notice that she did not answer her question.

I I I I I

Grissom watched the ambulance drive away, safe in the knowledge that Jim Brass was fine, save a nasty bang on the head which could cause mild concussion. He had been asked to leave the scene; his status as a CSI gained him no special allowance, as this was not a crime scene yet. His obduracy, however, had proved more useful.

The departure of the ambulance marked the arrival of two fire trucks, sirens blazing. Taking advantage of the brief distraction, Grissom made his way slightly closer to the car. He could hear the hurried discussions of a group of paramedics standing just before it.

"She's conscious," one woman was saying.

"We can't do this without her knowing," said another. "Someone is going to have to tell her."

"Are we sure there's no other way?"

"Have you seen the mess the car has made of her leg? There's no saving it."

The confirmation of what Brass had said shocked Grissom; he felt a shiver run down his spine. The paramedics continued to talk.

"I should probably tell her," the woman who had spoken first suggested. "I'm the only person she has spoken to."

Grissom was not sure what took over him but he could not help but step forward.

"I'll tell her."

I I I I I

The woman paramedic appeared once again at Sara's right hand side. "There's someone here to see you," she said gently. "Is that alright?"

"Brass?"

"No, Sara." The male voice flooded warmth into Sara's body despite the fact she had been shivering moments ago for some inexplicable reason considering the day's heat. "It's me." Grissom's body replaced that of the paramedic.

"Grissom?"

Sara's struggle to speak upset Grissom but he tried not to let it show in his face. "Hi, honey."

"What – are – you -?"

Grissom pressed a finger gently to Sara's lips. In any other situation it would have seemed odd, but right now it felt totally natural. "Don't try to speak. I saw Jim. He's gone to hospital but he's going to be absolutely fine. So don't you worry about that."

A brief smile darted across Sara's lips but the effort of moving her mouth was both mildly painful and exhausting. Grissom continued to talk.

"You're the priority now. You may have heard the fire trucks just arriving. The car got a pretty bad bashing to it. And so did you, I'm afraid." He stopped for a second and smiled grimly. "Who am I kidding? You know that better than anyone." The attempt at humour was awkward and he immediately regretted it. He took a deep breath and struggled to decide how to word what he had to say next. "Your leg, Sara," he began. As he went on, silent tears began to run down Sara's cheeks. She could not lift her hands to wipe them away and so they simply ran down her face, eventually meeting the neck brace which was holding her head upright. Grissom could hardly bear to watch. Eventually he was forced to leave Sara's side and move away from the car. The sounds of equipment cutting its way into the car broke his heart but he did not allow himself to look around.

I I I I I

Grissom drove himself to the hospital of his own accord. When there he made a quick phone call to Catherine Willows to let her know what was going on and to ask her to make sure those people who needed to be told were done so. He then visited the hospital canteen and bought himself a cup of coffee which he stirred until it had gone cold before leaving it on the table untouched. He opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator from the first floor canteen to the seventh floor where Brass was in a ward. He needed desperately to keep himself occupied. Sitting and waiting was not an option as it allowed far too many thoughts to creep into his brain, which was already full with the horrible image of Sara's tears as he had told her that her life was never going to be the same again.

Brass was sitting upright on his bed when Grissom spotted him. "Gil," he called out. "How's Sara?"

Evidently the two men had in common the only thing on their minds. "She's in theatre." Silence descended on the colleagues for a moment before Grissom could bear it no longer. "How are you feeling?"

"I had a headache but they've loaded me full of painkillers. They wanted to keep me over night so they could watch for concussion but I've persuaded them otherwise. A couple of hours and I should be free."

"You got lucky." Grissom honestly had not meant to sound aggressive or accusatory but he immediately regretted his words as he saw a shadow fall across Brass' face.

"I wish I hadn't. It should be me in theatre, Gil. Not Sara. She shouldn't have been there."

"You can't blame yourself, Jim."

"Of course I can. It was me who talked Sara into taking a ride home. It was me who agreed on a car chase even though I had a civilian in the car. It was me who crashed the car!"

"You can't class Sara as a civilian. She knew what the risks were. She knows the job as well as you do."

"She was off duty, Gil. Unarmed. Unprepared. She should not have been in that car but I put her there." His eyes were filling now and Grissom could see him struggling to keep control.

"Whatever happens, Jim, promise me you will not blame yourself. This is not your doing. It is a horrific accident. You have to remember that."

"I wish it were that simple."


	4. Chapter 4

Grissom had eventually given in to thinking and was sitting on an uncomfortable bench in the hospital corridor when Sara was wheeled out of theatre. He jumped up immediately and watched as the silent procession passed him. A doctor hung back and Grissom prevented himself from following Sara in order to hear what he had to say.

"Dr Grissom?" he queried.

"Yes," Grissom confirmed. "I know I'm not a relative but there's no one else to contact. Please can you tell me how she is?" He prepared himself for a struggle against the rules of patient confidentiality but what the doctor had to say came as a shock.

"It's alright, Dr Grissom. You're Sara's official next of kin."

Grissom was taken aback. "I am?"

"Yes. I assume you didn't know?"

"No," Grissom shook his head, struggling to comprehend how Sara could have placed him in such a position of trust and responsibility without him even knowing. Then, suddenly, he became aware once again of his priority. "So, how is Sara?"

"The operation was a success. As far is it could have been," the doctor replied. "Aside from her leg, Sara had no serious injuries and none internally. Physically she should be fine, although she'll have to stay in for observation for a few days."

"And mentally?"

"Losing a leg would be traumatic for anyone, Dr Grissom," the doctor began. "Sara is going to need a lot of support."

"What about her leg itself. What can you do?"

"There have been many advances in prosthetic limbs in the last few years. With time she should be able to do much of what she could do before. But it will take time. She will have to take part in a course of physiotherapy." The doctor smiled briefly at Grissom but he could read the meaning in his eyes. There was a long road ahead. "She is going to need you and her other friends more than ever."

The doctor left and walked down the corridor. As he turned the corner Grissom was once again left alone. The doctor's words seemed to reverberate against the sterile white walls, or were they just in his head? Grissom struggled to move from that spot. How could things change so drastically in one instant? Mere hours ago Sara had been working in the lab. Now she was lying in a hospital ward facing what was probably the greatest struggle she would ever live through.

I I I I I

It was nearly two hours before Sara finally began to regain consciousness after her operation. Grissom had been sitting at her bedside all that time. As she struggled to open her eyes, her eyelids feeling like heavy weights shutting her off from the world around her, she heard a groan rise from her dry throat although she had not meant to make a noise. Immediately Grissom was upright and reaching out for her hand.

"Sara?" he queried, concerned. She tried to look up at him but her neck was stiff although the brace had been removed. "Don't try to move, honey."

Sara felt completely disorientated. As Grissom spoke she felt her life slowly piecing together in her mind. First the basics; where she worked, her colleagues, her apartment. Then horrible flashbacks to the accident; the screams, the jolts, the horrible sounds reverberating in her ears as the car flipped over. And that peppermint wrapper. She wondered what had happened to it in the turmoil. Then she could see the face of a paramedic, but she could hear Grissom's voice. It was in that moment that his words came flooding back to her. A small whimper forced its way out of her mouth.

"It's alright, Sara, don't try to move."

She swallowed hard, hating the feeling of her scratchy throat. "The accident-" she managed to croak. Grissom tried to hush her but she could not rid her head of the words he had said to her in the car. She did not want to ask but not knowing was far more painful. "My leg."

Grissom's face paled and Sara did not need him to speak to know that a miracle had not occurred. She could not hold back the tears that had started to roll down her cheeks. Grissom did not let go of her hand until she had drifted off into restless sleep.

I I I I I

Brass appeared at Sara's bedside to find Grissom flicking distractedly through a woman's magazine whilst Sara herself slept. He gently touched Grissom on the shoulder, withdrawing his hand when his friend jumped.

"Sorry, Gil," he said quietly, keen not to disturb Sara. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Grissom put down the magazine. "That's alright, Jim. Have you been discharged?"

"Yes." Brass observed his friend. He looked exhausted although it had only been a few hours since he had left the lab. "Are you alright?"

Grissom looked taken aback by the inquiry after _his _health. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I'm fine. I have to be." He said. "Sara needs me."

"She needs you to be healthy, Gil," Brass said. "If you wear yourself into the ground with stress and worry then you won't be much use to her."

"I'm fine, Jim, honestly."

Before Brass had the time to protest further, a gurgle rose from Sara's throat. The two men turned to face her as her eyes shot open and she began to cough. Their faces showed panic. "Call a doctor," Grissom instructed, but Sara shook her head vehemently as the coughing seemed to subside.

"Water," she choked. Grissom gently helped her to gulp down a few mouthfuls from the cup sitting by her bed. "Thank you," she managed to say, a little more clearly once she had had a drink. As Grissom went and refilled the cup from a tap in the corner of the room, Brass gently helped Sara into a slightly more upright position in bed. Making his way back to her bedside, Grissom noted that Sara looked far more composed with a little more colour in her cheeks and less likely to start crying again.

The two men and Sara made awkward conversation for a few minutes, all avoiding the topic of the crash and managing instead to chat about work and weather as though everything was ordinary. It was, however, the weather that brought Sara's attention back to more immediate, pressing matters. When Grissom commented on the heat, Brass and Sara exchanged looks, both recalling the conversation they had had earlier, when things had been so ordinary and neither had had any idea of the disaster that lay ahead.

"I want to see," Sara said, out of the blue.

"See what?" Grissom asked, although deep down he knew to what she was referring.

"My leg. Or lack of it." She smiled grimly but the humour made them all feel uncomfortable.

"Are you sure?" Grissom asked.

She nodded, determined. She was fighting a mental battle with herself. Inside she could not have been less confident but she was determined to maintain an outward air of acceptance and composure.

"Maybe I should go," Brass suggested.

"No, you can stay," Sara replied.

"I really think I should leave," was the reply. Brass was already standing and halfway to the door. What he did not say was that he was leaving not for Sara but for his own sake. He could not stand to see the damage that he believed he was responsible for. There was no arguing with him and he left the room, saying he would go back to the lab to speak to the team and he would be back later.

Grissom and Sara were left alone. "Are you sure, Sara?"

Now she felt the need to be more honest. "No. But I have to face up to this, Grissom."

"Gil."

"Excuse me?"

"Call me Gil, Sara. It just doesn't feel right, you calling me by my surname. We're not at work."

Sara looked slightly confused but conceded. "Alright – Gil. Let me see."

Grissom stood up and gently began to pull the sheets back from Sara's body. She was wearing a hospital gown and looked horribly vulnerable. He paused for a second when he had revealed her body as far as her thighs. Glancing at her, he saw her nod. He continued to pull back the sheets. The sight was almost as great a shock to him as it was to her. Whilst her left leg lay normally on the bed, with one or two small bruises, her right leg ended at the knee; it was bandaged tightly into a neat looking stub. Grissom took a deep breath and turned to look at Sara. Her eyes were fixed on her leg.

"Sara?"

There was no reply.

"Sara, are you alright?"

There was a moment of silence before she spoke, a picture of calm. "I think you should go."

"Sara, it's alright. There's so much that can be done these days."

"I said go, Grissom."

"I told you, call me Gil."

Her face was beginning to flush. "Gil, Grissom, whatever. Just leave me alone."

Grissom was worried now. "Please, Sara, don't do this."

"GO!"

She was still staring at her leg, her face red with anger but still the picture of calm collection. Grissom slowly pulled the sheets back over her body and silently walked out.


	5. Chapter 5

When the nurse came to check on Sara, she found her sitting upright in the hospital bed but with her eyes screwed shut. "Miss Sidle?" she probed, but there was no sign that she had even been heard. "Sara?" She waited a moment and then Sara's eyes jolted open and darted in the direction of the nurse. "Are you alright?" she enquired.

Sara nodded curtly. "Fine."

"You should probably lie down, Sara. Give your body a rest – it's been through a lot."

"I'm fine, thank you."

The nurse came over and gently tried to adjust the pillows which were currently propping up Sara's back. "I know you probably feel a lot better but your body may still be in shock."

"I told you, I'm fine." Sara's voice was sounding angry now.

The nurse looked concerned. "Maybe I should get the doctor to come and have a look at you."

Sara pulled herself even further out of the bed sheets and turned to look the nurse in the eye. "To tell me what, exactly? That my leg is going to grow back?"

The nurse let out a breath, as though she had only just realised what it was that was bothering her patient. "I know this is difficult, Sara."

"You know this is difficult?" Sara sounded outraged, continuing bitterly, "You seem to have two legs. I don't see how you can begin to imagine."

The nurse seemed to realise that it was hopeless. "I'll send the doctor along to speak to you."

Silently she turned and left the room. Only once she had shut the door behind her did Sara take her advice and lie down on the bed.

I I I I I

Grissom was sitting on an uncomfortable chair directly outside the door contemplating how long he should leave it before attempting to speak to her again, when he noticed the doctor approaching. As he went to open the door to Sara's room, Grissom called out to him.

"Yes?" he replied impatiently, before turning and recognizing the man sitting before him. "How can I help you, Dr Grissom? Have you been in to see Sara?"

"She wanted to see her leg," Grissom replied simply

"Ah," the doctor sighed, as though that explained everything. "I take it she didn't take it well."

Talk about stating the obvious, Grissom thought, but he did not word it. "No, I don't think so. But she was very calm. She asked me to leave as though we'd just had some kind of argument."

"People deal with these things in different ways, Dr Grissom."

Grissom just nodded silently. It was difficult to put into words your instincts. He was not worried about the way in which Sara was dealing with the accident; he was worried that she was not dealing with it at all.

I I I I I

Catherine Willows was riding the elevator up to the floor on which Brass had told her Sara was being kept. The minute the doors opened stiffly, she spotted Grissom sitting awkwardly, staring at his feet. With a deep breath she approached him. The sound of footsteps drew his attention.

"Cath. What are you doing here?"

"The same as you, I expect," she replied. "Visiting Sara." She eased herself into the seat beside him. "How is she?"

"Not great."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. But we all know how strong she is. She'll get through this."

"I don't know if anything she's faced in the past can compare to this."

"Maybe not. But we can't do anything now except offer her all our support." The words sounded futile and slightly corny to Catherine's ears but she could not think of a better way to express herself. She placed a hand on Grissom's knee supportively. "You should go home, Gil. Have a shower, something to eat and a few hours sleep."

He turned to her and smiled, grateful but weary. "I can't leave her."

"You're no good to Sara in this state." Her eyes examined his face as though he were a piece of evidence in the lab. "I think you could do with a few hours off. If it makes you feel better, I'll make sure there's always someone here. I know Nick's planning on coming soon. We'll contact you if we need to." Grissom opened his mouth to protest but a sharp look from Catherine stopped him. "Go home, Gil. Just for a little while."

Resignedly, Grissom nodded. "I won't be long."

"Take as long as you need," Catherine smiled, trying to appear more confident and optimistic than she was feeling. "Sara's got a long road ahead of her; you need to make sure you're in a fit state to travel it with her."

I I I I I

Grissom had been gone a mere two minutes when the doctor emerged from Sara's room. He scanned the corridor before addressing Catherine. "Are you a friend of Sara's?"

"A colleague," Catherine replied, before deciding to add, "And a friend also."

"Has Dr Grissom gone?"

"He went to get some shut eye."

The doctor nodded in approval. "I'm glad to hear that. I didn't want another patient on my hands."

Catherine smiled slightly. "How is she, doctor?"

"Physically she is fine. More than fine, in fact. Considering what her body has been through in the past twenty-four hours, she is in remarkably good shape. Except for-" He faded off as Catherine nodded regretfully. "I'm not sure she's dealing with it that well, right now. She refused to talk about it with me. But it has only been a few hours. It can take people days, even months to come to terms with something like this."

"Can I go in?"

"You're very welcome to but I must warn you she is not very receptive right now. She is still in some shock and…well, as we said, there's a lot to come to terms with."

"Thank you, doctor."

As he walked away Catherine stood up, took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Sara's room. She was shocked by her colleague's appearance. The doctor had said she was in remarkably good physical condition but Catherine would not have thought so herself. Sara's face was drained of colour and she was attached to foreboding hospital equipment which was measuring her body's health to a tune of regular beeps and sighs. She was lying flat on the bed, her head rested on a pillow and her eyes focused firmly on the ceiling. It was a few seconds after the door had clicked shut before she turned them to look at Catherine.

"Catherine. I didn't expect to see you." There was coldness in her voice, but Catherine thought it was more distant than bitter.

"I thought I'd surprise you."

Sara returned her eyes to the ceiling. "I hope you're not here out of a sense of duty."

"You know me. I wouldn't come unless I wanted to." Catherine moved closer to Sara and perched on the end of the bed. "Everyone's really worried about you."

"There's no need."

"Try telling Nick that. It was all I could do to stop him driving here the second he heard." She smiled but it was lost on Sara, whose eyes did not move. Catherine followed her gaze but could not find anything fascinating about the white, slightly shabby ceiling tiles. She decided to continue talking. "I made Grissom go home for a while. He's been here the whole time, you know. It was a struggle to get him to leave. He's really torn up about this."

"Anyone would have thought he was the one in a hospital bed."

Catherine felt her blood boil slightly at this comment. Whilst she and Sara had not always been bosom buddies she had thought they were getting closer recently and she really was concerned for the woman, whom she now regarded as a friend. However, picturing Grissom as he had been when she arrived, exhausted, troubled and yet so reluctant to leave, she resented Sara's attitude. "I don't think you realise how much he cares." Sara was silent. Catherine thought she may have hit a nerve and decided not to push it further. "We're all here, you know, if you ever need anyone to talk to. I know this isn't going to be easy, but whatever we can do, we will."

Catherine had Sara's full attention now and, if she was not mistaken, her eyes were filling up. "Could you leave, please?" she asked, her voice catching slightly in her throat. "I need some time alone."

Catherine could sense that it was not worth arguing. "I'll be outside. If you need me, just call." But Sara's eyes had returned to the apparently mesmerizing ceiling again. Catherine closed the door behind her just in time to miss the tears as they started to roll down Sara's ashen cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

Each time Catherine heard the elevator doors slide open, she worried that it would be Grissom, returning long before he could have had enough rest to keep him going. However, the first person to emerge through the doors that she recognized was not Grissom but Nick. She smiled warmly at him and motioned for him to sit down next to her. She was cradling a lukewarm cup of coffee which had very little taste and certainly not the amount of caffeine which she required. Nick's eyes slid to the door opposite them. "Is Sara in there?" Catherine nodded. "How is she?"

"Not great." Seeing panic flash across Nick's face, she immediately made herself clear. "I mean, she's fine, physically. She's conscious, the surgery went well."

"But her leg…"

"It couldn't be saved."

Nick lowered his head, staring intently at the floor. "Oh, God. Why Sara? What did she do to deserve this?"

Catherine placed a hand on his arm. "Hey, Nicky, she needs you to be strong for her. She can get through this, but only with our support." She was beginning to feel like _she _was the support not only for Sara but for the whole team, but she made a conscious effort not to let the strain show.

Nick looked up and met her gaze. "You're right. Can I go in?" He motioned to the door.

"You can, but I wouldn't recommend it," Catherine replied. "I think she needs some time to think."

"Sure." Nick stood up, already falling prey to the nervous bug which did not allow anyone to stay still whilst thinking about Sara. "I think I'll go get a coffee."

"I'd suggest a tea, or a chocolate or something," Catherine advised. "Unless you like the taste of toilet water."

I I I I I

As he rushed through the hospital doors a mere four hours after he had left, Grissom nearly collided with Brass, who was going in the other direction.

"Jim?" he queried. "What are you doing here?"

Brass looked embarrassed and coughed nervously. "I, uh, was just visiting Sara."

"How is she?"

"I, um, didn't actually see her."

"Did you speak to Catherine?"

"No, I-" Brass faltered and tried to change the subject. "I hope you've had some sleep."

"A little. Do you want to come up with me? I think I'm going to speak to Sara again. Last time didn't end too well."

"Actually, I think I better get back to work."

Grissom glanced at his watch. "It's not your shift, Jim." He looked up at his friend, puzzled. "What were you doing leaving the hospital, if you haven't seen Sara or Catherine?"

Brass looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Realising he and Grissom were blocking the entrance to the hospital, he pulled his friend to one side. "Look, Gil, I think it's best if I don't see Sara right now."

"Why not?"

"Because it was me who put her in that hospital bed! I don't suppose she wants to speak to me."

Grissom sighed. "Jim, I told you earlier, you are not to blame."

"Then who is?"

"The kids who shot at the car, perhaps?"

"They wouldn't have had the opportunity to had I not been pursuing them."

"It's your job, Jim. You were acting in the line of duty."

"That may be so, but it was not Sara's job or her duty."

"No, it was her choice."

Brass opened his mouth as though he had more to say, but then changed his mind. "Look, I'll speak to you later, alright? Tell Catherine I said hi."

"Jim-" Grissom began, but Brass was already out the door.

I I I I I

When Grissom arrived at Sara's door he was surprised to find Catherine nowhere to be seen. He peered through the window. His view of Sara was obscured by the doctor. He decided to gently push the door open. The minute he did so, he could hear Sara's voice.

"Please, just leave."

The doctor was holding something out to Sara but Grissom could not see what. "You just need time, Sara," the doctor was saying. "I know this is difficult now, but I promise it will get easier."

Sara's voice was growing in volume. "Easier? How exactly? Is my leg going to grow back, doctor?"

Grissom could not stand to hear her like this. Whilst her voice was outwardly aggressive, he could pick up on the desperation within it, as though Sara was pleading with the doctor to say yes; to tell her that a miracle could occur.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the doctor turned to see who had entered. Now Grissom could see the object he had been showing Sara. In the doctor's hands was a prosthetic leg. He turned from it to look at Sara. She was staring directly at him, her eyes still pleading as her voice had been. In an instant, however, they turned confrontational. "What do you want, Grissom?" This time, Grissom did not try to convince her to call him by his first name.

"I can come back," he said.

"No, no," Sara replied. "Let's all gather round and have a look at Sara, the one legged freak show."

Catherine and Nick did not choose the most opportune moment to enter the room. Had it not been so tragic, their timing would have been almost comical.

"I don't believe this," Sara muttered, before raising her voice to a more audible level. "What am I? A tourist attraction?"

Catherine and Nick looked confused and concerned at the same time.

"I think maybe you should leave," the doctor said, addressing all three visitors.

"You can go too, doctor," Sara added.

"But-" he began, holding out the prosthetic leg as though it were some kind of peace offering.

"I don't need that, thank you. I just want some time to myself. Is that too much to ask?"

The doctor placed the leg on a chair in the corner of the room. "I'll leave it here. The nurse will be in to take observations."

Sara nodded curtly and watched her four guests file out of the room. They looked like a funeral procession. Sara thought the similarity was apt, given the circumstances. Once they had all left, she turned to look at the leg. It was propped up against the back of the chair. Just the sight of it sent shivers down her spine. For the umpteenth time since she had been in hospital she felt her throat begin to burn and her eyes fill up as she struggled to hold back her tears. She did not know what to do, what to say, what to feel. The minute she was alone, she longed for company. Being by herself meant she had nothing to do but think; to remember the accident and all the things she had been able to do before it and to consider her future and all the things she would no longer be able to do. But as soon as anyone tried to help, she could not deal with it. She could not stand the pity in their eyes. She did not want sympathy. She wanted them to talk to her like she was Sara, not a cripple. All she wanted to do was get up and walk out of here. But that was the one thing she was least able to do.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey everyone, sorry for the long gap between updates but everything's getting a bit hectic again! Ihope some people are still reading - I promise I'll do my best to update. Please read and review - I really appreciate everybody's comments._

_Emily x _

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When Sara awoke she was immediately aware of somebody sitting by her beside. Blinking wearily, she turned to look at her visitor. He was sitting up, simply gazing at the bed.

"Hello, Sara."

"Brass?"

"How are you feeling?" From any other person that question would have elicited some kind of sarcastic response but there was something different in Brass' eyes to those of everyone else; it was not pity or sympathy but something much deeper. Sara could not put her finger on it.

"I've been better."

"I'm so sorry." The words stumbled out of his mouth, tripping over one another as though he could not hold them back.

"You're sorry?" Sara murmured confusedly.

"I'm so, so sorry," he repeated.

All of a sudden something clicked in Sara's head and she realised what it was that was haunting Brass' eyes. It was responsibility. Looking up, she saw that a single tear was rolling down his cheek. She did not know how to respond. It was as though their roles had been reversed; she needed to support him. Cautiously she reached out for his hand. He did not pull back.

"Listen to me," she began. "This is not your fault."

"I should never have chased those kids with you in the car."

"I agreed. It was my choice. I was responsible for myself."

"You asked me to stop."

"I never did."

"You asked me if it was worth it. I decided it was. You paid the price for my decision."

Sara could not bear to hear the grief in his words. "Don't do this to yourself. It will eat you up. I promise you, this is not your fault."

"I came to the hospital earlier," Brass continued. "But I turned back when I reached the elevator. It took everything I had to make myself come in here right now and face you…to see what I've done."

Sara squeezed his hand. "I appreciate it. But you did nothing but your job. I took a risk and it had consequences. That's all there is to it."

This time Brass did not argue, although Sara thought he was far from convinced. They sat in silence for a few moments before it was broken by the doctor's entrance. He looked slightly nervous. No wonder, Sara thought, considering her treatment of him earlier. His nerves soon turned to surprise when he noticed Sara had a visitor. Even more surprise when he spotted her holding his hand rather than shouting.

"I'll come back later," he said quietly, but Sara shook her head.

"Anything you have to say to me, Jim can hear too. He's a friend."

I I I I I

Grissom, Catherine and Nick had been sitting in the relatives' room for longer than they had kept track of. Grissom's neck was bent at an awkward angle, his head leaning against the wall and his eyes shut; his body evidently had not agreed that the hour of sleep he had achieved earlier was enough. Catherine and Nick were both holding polystyrene cups; they had discovered that neither the tea nor the hot chocolate were improvements on the machine's coffee and had opted instead for orange squash.

The sound of Nick's mobile phone, still on although it was breaking hospital rules, disturbed his and Catherine's thoughts and awoke Grissom from a shallow sleep.

"'Rick?" he answered. Catherine and Grissom listened in on their end of the conversation but Nick's one-syllable responses did not give much away. Once he had hung up they turned to him in question.

"He wanted to know whether it was worth him coming to the hospital. I told him no. I'm going to go meet him and tell him what's going on. I don't think Sara will miss me." He smiled grimly. "Call me if there's anything to report, won't you?"

Catherine and Grissom nodded the affirmative. Soon they were left alone. Ominous silence filled the room. Grissom rotated his head, feeling the stiff muscles in his neck rebel against the movement. The sound of the door opening came as a shock to them both. The sight of Brass came as a relief purely because the sight of a doctor was still associated with bad news. They both noticed that he looked exhausted.

"Are you sure you're well?" Catherine asked by way of a greeting. "After all, you were in the accident as well."

"I'm fine, honestly. I've just been speaking to Sara."

Grissom sat bolt upright. "She didn't throw you out?"

Brass looked slightly confused. "No. Actually, she wants to see you." Grissom immediately pulled himself out of his chair, ignoring his exhausted body's demands for rest. "And you." Brass turned to Catherine. "She says it's important."

I I I I I

"You have no need to apologise," Grissom said, gazing concernedly on Sara's pallid face. "After what you've been through, I would have expected a lot worse."

"Neither of you deserved the treatment I gave you earlier. I want you to know how much I appreciate your support. I really do." Sara was sitting upright in her bed, numerous pillows placed behind her back to make the position more comfortable.

"All we want is to help you, Sara," Catherine said, smiling gently at her colleague and friend. "We really do care."

"I know that. But I wasn't seeing clearly earlier." Sara shook her head as though trying to clear her thoughts. "I was in shock, I-"

"There's no need to defend yourself to us," Grissom interrupted.

"There's only one thing I ask," Sara continued. She made sure she had the gazes of both Catherine and Grissom. "You treat me like me. I'm still Sara. The accident hasn't changed that. Support I can definitely deal with but pity I can't. I don't want you to look at me like a victim."

"Of course not," Catherine replied.

"Actually, there is one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Can you pass me over that leg?" Sara pointed at the corner where the prosthetic was sitting awkwardly. "I need to have a closer look."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! As for all the enquiries as to whether Doc Robbins will get involved, I'm afraid I have no plans to have him help Sara medically, although you may well see him crop up in the future!_

_Emily x _

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The day Sara was able to leave the hospital Nick came to drive her home. Grissom had told her nothing would keep him away but unfortunately it turned out that there was something that could stand in his way; he had to give evidence in court. It had taken Sara a whole hour to convince him that she would be alright and did not need to come out of hospital a day later so that he could be there.

"Are you alright?" Nick asked, watching her manoeuvre herself from the bed into her wheelchair concernedly.

"Fine," Sara reassured him. She had become quite practised at this art in the last few days. At first it had been both a physical and an emotional battle to get herself out of bed. It had been a shock to find something she had previously taken for granted could now be so difficult. Accepting help from the nurses and in particular her friends and colleagues had been a struggle. But her determination had won through and each day it became easier for her to move around without help. Her arms were certainly building strength by the day.

They took the elevator down to the ground floor, speaking gratefully to the nurses and doctors who were still helping Sara on the road to recovery on their way out. When they reached Nick's car, Sara managed to pull the car door open. Nick was about to climb into the driver's side when he noticed Sara attempting to manoeuvre herself close enough to the car in order to transfer to it from her wheelchair. It was a moment of revelation for him; he felt a wave of sadness wash over him. She was going to need his help, if not to get into the car, to put away the wheelchair. She seemed so vulnerable to him, so reliant. It was not the way he was used to viewing Sara. As he wordlessly walked round to the passenger door and eased Sara into the car, before folding up the wheelchair and placing it into the back, he met her gaze briefly. Neither felt the need to speak but the look in Sara's eyes said more than words ever could. They may have won the battle, but the war was not over yet.

I I I I I

The sound of the doorbell, whilst she was examining the meagre contents of her fridge, came as a surprise to Sara. Nick had left only half an hour ago. He had made her promise to call if she needed anything but had said he would not return until the next day. She wheeled herself over to the door. Instinctively she went to look through the viewing hole at the top of the door, before she realised that was not possible. Cautiously she pulled the door open. Standing outside was Grissom. Sara glanced at her watch.

"You weren't meant to be done in court for another hour."

"Don't sound so happy to see me."

Sara could not prevent her smile. "Sorry. Come in." Wheeling herself over to a position beside her armchair she motioned for him to sit down. "How was it?"

"I don't think that guy is going to be seeing the light of day again."

"Evidence that solid, huh?"

"They struggled to find a hole in our procedure. We did the job well."

"Good." Sara's mind wandered to her job and Grissom could tell what she was thinking.

"Everyone at the lab is asking after you," he said, not entirely sure how else to breach the topic.

"Glad to hear I'm missed."

Silence descended over the pair. Sara could not bear to consider the life she had had to put on hold. "So, what can I do for you?"

"You're going to have to get used to this, I'm afraid."

"Get used to what?"

"Visits from me with no particular reason behind them."

Sara replied quickly. "I told you, I don't want pity."

Grissom immediately jumped to defend himself. "Pity is a reason. I said they had no reason. Except-" He stopped mid-sentence.

"Except what, Grissom?" Sara noticed him going to protest and immediately corrected herself. "I mean, Gil."

Grissom smiled self-consciously. "Except that I enjoy your company, Sara."

Both of them realised the cliché. They smiled at each other as their gazes met but after a couple of seconds both looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"How are you going to cope alone here?" Grissom asked.

Sara hoped that this was not another line. "Absolutely fine, thank you," she smiled. "That's what elevators were invented for. And I'm surprisingly mobile in this thing." She gestured to her wheelchair. "Not that I won't ask for help if I need it," she added. "I've already had that lecture from Nick."

"Glad to hear it," Grissom replied. "So…"

"Where do I go from here?"

"Yes, I suppose that's what I wanted to ask."

"I have to acquaint myself with a new leg. I have my first physiotherapy appointment on Monday."

Sara knew what was coming next. "Would you like me to take you?"

"Actually, Nick asked me." Sara watched the disappointment flash over Grissom's face for a second before continuing, "But I turned him down. I thought you'd offer. It's a date?"

Grissom smiled. "Absolutely."

I I I I I

Nick was talking to Catherine when Brass entered the room. Both turned and smiled warmly at him. His distance and aloofness since the accident had not been lost on them. Sara had told Nick about her and Brass' conversation. She had also told him that she believed he still thought himself responsible; Nick was inclined to agree.

"What can we do for you?" Catherine enquired.

"We arrested Harold Sinclair."

"Glad to hear it," Catherine replied. "That guy was a creep, if ever I knew one."

"Yes," Brass' reply was brief. "Anyway, I better go." He turned to leave but Nick called out to him.

"Hang on a minute."

"Yes?"

"Have you been to see Sara since she got out of hospital?"

"No," Brass replied, sounding slightly suspicious about where this conversation was going.

"I'm sure she'd like to see you."

"Yes, well, I've been busy."

"Would you like to come visit her after our shift today? I'm going so you could join me."

"I'm…not free tonight. Sorry."

Catherine at this point decided to intervene. "It would mean a lot to her, Jim."

Brass face began to flush and when he spoke he sounded flustered. "I will go and see her. Just not tonight. Alright?"

Nick could not avoid saying what he had been wanting to. "None of this is your fault you know, Jim."

Now Brass sounded positively angry. "I don't think that has anything to do with you."

Catherine took a step closer to Brass and placed a hand gently on his arm. "Nick is right, Jim."

Brass pulled away from her touch. "It's nice to see you have some kind of conspiracy going on against me."

"Against you?" Nick asked in disbelief. "We support you, Brass. That's our point."

"I don't need support, Nick."

"You could have fooled me." Nick barely hid his frustration and Catherine shot him a harsh glance.

"Please, Jim," she began. "Don't let this burn you out."

"I have no plans to do so."

"I hope not," Catherine replied.

"If the interrogation is over, I'll go and do some work. Maybe you two should do the same." Without looking at either of them, he walked out, leaving Catherine and Nick shaking their heads sadly in his wake.


	9. Chapter 9

Grissom collected Sara from her apartment at 10am, just after he had finished his shift. She thought he looked tired, he thought the same of her. He helped her into the car, despite her protests.

"I can do it, Gil."

"That's great for you, but I would like to help."

Sara rolled her eyes. "I give in."

"That's the right answer," Grissom smiled as he shut the door on her side of the car.

During the drive to the hospital Sara almost forgot where she was going. She found herself smiling and laughing in a way she had not done since the accident. The sight of her happiness brought a glow to Grissom also. When they reached the hospital it almost came as a shock to them when they recalled why they were there. Grissom helped Sara into her wheelchair – this time she did not protest. As they made their way to the physiotherapy department silence washed over them, as though the reality of the accident was hitting them all over again. They sat in the waiting room for ten minutes before a nurse emerged from a side room.

"Sara Sidle?"

Grissom automatically stood up as Sara turned to look at the nurse, before he realised that he had no need to accompany Sara. She turned to look at him, reading his thoughts through his actions. "I'd like you to come in with me."

"Really?" Grissom was taken aback.

"Really." She reached out for his hand. He took it and she squeezed it gently. "I'd appreciate it."

I I I I I

As Brass stood before Sara's door his stomach began to do a little dance; it was not a pleasant feeling. He took a couple of deep breaths to settle it before knocking twice. After a few seconds with no reply he knocked again. There was still no reply. He turned to leave, trying not to feel too relieved that the conversation had been avoided. But then an image flashed into his head. Sara lying on the floor, her wheelchair discarded clumsily behind her. He shook his head and told himself not to be stupid. Sara was coping remarkably well with the wheelchair, as she did with everything; he had been told so by Nick, Catherine, Warrick, Grissom, Greg – all the people who had been visiting her regularly in the past week. He turned again to leave. But what if- He knocked once more, hard, on the door. Never had silence sounded so threatening. Or was it silence? Brass thought he could hear the sound of a running tap. "Sara?" he called out. The tap had not stopped running. What if Sara had fallen? "Sara?" He took a deep breath and counted to ten before kicking the door hard, with all the strength he could muster.

As it flew open, the sound of the lock breaking reverberating in the corridor, Brass rushed inside. He glanced around at the living area and the kitchenette. Sara was nowhere to be seen. As the sound of the door being kicked open faded in his ears, Brass was suddenly aware that the sound of the tap had stopped. He cautiously made his way into the bedroom. Sara's bed was made. In the bathroom there was no sign that a tap had been running at all. The sink and the shower were completely dry. Brass noted that a rail had already been put up in the bathroom to aid Sara's mobility. Bottles of various perfumes, moisturisers and other unidentifiable creams were sitting on a shelf.

It suddenly hit Brass that he was seriously violating Sara's personal space. He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom, realising what he had done. He had broken into Sara's home for no good reason and invaded her privacy, all because of a horrible guilt that he could not get rid of. Just because he felt responsible and wanted so desperately to make up for it that he would do…well, this.

He went to leave but then realised that in doing so he would leave Sara's apartment open to the whole world. A feeling of panic gripped his chest. He could not face Sara like this. He pulled out his phone and dialled.

I I I I I

Grissom chest felt slightly compressed as he watched the doctor help Sara, with a prosthetic limb attached to her right leg, up into a standing position between two rails. She gripped a rail in each hand and took her body weight on her arms, greatly strengthened by the last week in a wheelchair.

"Put some weight onto your left leg for me, Sara," the doctor asked. Sara did so, the tension in her arms easing slightly. "Now, I'm going to help you move your right leg forward a step. Alright?" Sara nodded. With help, her right leg moved forward a mere couple of inches. "Now, if you can, place a little weight onto your right leg."

Grissom watched as Sara slowly transferred the weight of her body from her left leg to the prosthetic limb on her right. She winced, not just in slight pain but because of the strange sensation that came from doing so. She held the position for a second but then she began to wobble as she lost her balance. Grissom resisted the urge to jump up and help her as the physiotherapist immediately reached out to sturdy her.

Sara's face paled as she gripped firmly, one hand on the rail, one on the doctor's arm. "I'm sorry, I-" she stammered.

"It's fine, Sara," the doctor reassured her. "One step at a time – quite literally." She smiled and Sara made a conscious effort to return it. "I'm not going to hurry you. If you need to sit down, you can do that."

"No." There was strength and determination in Sara's voice. "I'll keep going."

As she took a few more steps, the progress small but visible, Grissom found himself the one who was smiling.

I I I I I

Nick had driven at top speed across the city in order to reach Brass at Sara's apartment. Despite the police officer's reassurances that Sara was fine, the extreme anxiety in his voice had scared Nick. As he pulled up outside Sara's apartment block and rushed up the stairs, unable to wait for an elevator, a million different scenarios ran through his head. His panic was not alleviated in the slightest by the sight of Sara's door kicked in. He rushed inside. Brass was sitting on an armchair and he looked up upon Nick's entrance, a look of desperation in his eyes.

"Where's Sara?" Nick asked urgently.

"She's not here."

Nick took a sharp breath. "Then where is she, Brass?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Just that. She wasn't here when I kicked the door in."

Nick looked confusedly behind him to the broken lock. "You did that?"

"Yes."

"Why?" All of a sudden Nick had a strange feeling that nothing was quite as it seemed. Brass hadn't called him because he was worried about Sara. He had called him because he, himself, needed help. "Why didn't you call Grissom?"

"What?" Brass looked puzzled.

"Why me? I don't mean it rudely, but I would have thought, well…you're closer to Griss than me."

"He's got enough on his plate right now. He's trying so hard to look after Sara."

Nick looked slightly hurt. "And I'm not?"

"I didn't mean that, I-" Brass struggled for words. All of a sudden he looked directly at Nick, as though he had had a moment of revelation. "She's at the hospital!"

"What?"

"Gil told me he was taking her to a physiotherapy appointment this morning."

"Of course." Nick recalled his conversation with Sara.

"So it would have done no good me calling him."

Brass's speech was beginning to sound more erratic and incomprehensible to Nick's ears. "Why?"

"Because he would have told Sara and that's exactly what I don't want."

"You're going to have to tell her you did this." Nick had given up on trying to fathom why he had done so. "She'll need to change the lock."

"I know. But I thought maybe you could speak to her. I'm not ready."

"Then why did you come here in the first place?" Now Nick sounded frustrated; there was a trace of aggravation in his voice. "Why can't you just speak to her, Jim? She's desperate to see you."

"Why would she want to see me at all? You know what I did to her."

"You did nothing. It was an accident."

"You keep telling yourself that, Nick. Because I can't."

"Listen to yourself – wallowing in self pity." Now Nick was angry but he slightly regretted his words. Brass was his superior and besides, the man was evidently beating himself up over this. Maybe he did not deserve this. But he could not stop himself. "You're the lucky one – you escaped the accident with all your limbs intact. Sara wasn't so lucky."

"Don't I know it," Brass muttered.

"Yet she's kept going. She's determined. She's fighting this; not letting it get the better of her. I can't say the same of you."

Suddenly Brass stood up, his face flushed. "I don't have to listen to this from you. Call a locksmith. I'll pay for this." He pointed at the door. "Tell Sara I'm sorry."

Nick had no time to argue before Brass had marched out of the broken door.


	10. Chapter 10

Sara wheeled herself into the elevator, closely followed by Grissom. "Thank you for coming," she said, looking up at him. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

"That's a lie and you know it," Grissom replied with a smile. "You wouldn't have let anything defeat you in that room."

Sara returned the smile. "Thank you all the same."

"It's my pleasure. Genuinely."

The elevator jolted to a halt, interrupting a silent moment between the two colleagues and friends. As the doors opened Sara caught sight of a man kneeling besides her front door. "Hey!" she called out. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The man looked up, confused. Sara wheeled herself into the corridor; Grissom had to maintain a quick walking pace in order to keep up. She expected the man to get up and run but to her surprise he merely stood and watched her approach. As Sara got closer, Nick emerged from her apartment. The look on his face worried her.

"Nick?" she queried. "What's going on?"

Sensing her anxiety Nick aimed to reassure her. "Everything's fine, I promise."

"Then what are you doing in my apartment? And who's this?" She turned angrily to the confused looking man standing in her doorway, with a box of tools sitting at his feet. He stared at her wheelchair before his gaze shifted to her right leg, or lack of it. For once Sara did not berate him for doing so but instead pushed past the two men into her apartment. Looking around she saw everything was intact. She turned to look at Nick.

He gazed back apologetically. "I think we better talk."

I I I I I

Brass had been unable to go home. There was too little to distract him there. Nothing to stop him wallowing in self pity, as Nick had astutely pointed out he had a habit of doing. Hence it was sitting in his office, indomitably sorting through a pile of papers, that Grissom found him.

"Gil," Brass greeted him. "What can I do for you?" He maintained a polite smile, hoping desperately that there was another reason for his visit than the one he was expecting.

"We need to talk, Jim."

"I don't think so."

"I do." Grissom sat down on a chair on the other side of Brass's desk. "You need to visit Sara."

"Not you as well? I've told Nick and Catherine that I will as soon as I have a moment."

"So you had a moment this morning?"

Brass began to shuffle through a pile of statements on his desk. "I don't need to talk about that."

"You do."

"It was a stupid mistake. I panicked."

"Maybe you should tell Sara that."

Brass looked up at Grissom. "Why would she want to see me? First I nearly kill her and leave her without a leg and then I break into her apartment. What could she possibly have to say?"

"She doesn't blame you for anything, Brass. No one does. Except you."

"Unfortunately I'm the hardest person to battle with."

"You spoke to her at the hospital and that was alright."

"Alright!" Brass laughed harshly. "I could barely look her in the eye, Gil. Every time I did I saw the fact that her life would never be the same because of me. She was so calm…so forgiving. I don't deserve that."

"Surely that's up to me."

The sound of Sara's voice startled Brass. He looked up to see her wheeling herself through the door. The sight of her wheelchair shocked him. "Sara, I-"

"I thought you two should speak," Grissom interrupted, by means of explanation. "I'll leave you alone."

I I I I I

Grissom was mulling over a case with a cup of tea when Catherine walked in. "I hear Sara's here."

"She's talking to Jim."

"About time."

"Yes." He looked up sadly. "I never thought he might have a worse reaction to this than Sara. It just didn't occur to me."

"Guilt can do horrible things, Gil." Grissom nodded. "How's Sara?" Catherine enquired. "Nick told me she had a physiotherapy appointment today."

"I don't know how she does it," Grissom replied. Catherine detected the tinges of admiration and warmth in his voice. "She's so strong. You should have seen her today – she refused to give in until she could walk the length of the room unaided."

"That's Sara for you."

"I just hope her attitude can rub off on Jim."

I I I I I

"How can you face me, Sara?" Brass asked. "After everything I've done?"

"We've been through this," Sara sighed. "You did nothing except your duty. It was my risk to take."

"But-"

Sara interrupted. "I have not got the energy to fight with you all over again, Jim." She smiled weakly at him. "You want the truth?"

"Of course."

"I had my physiotherapy appointment today. It hurt so much I could barely stand. But I kept going because I don't want Grissom to worry. My head is a mess. Everyone thinks I'm so strong but I'm not really. I'm not sleeping. I can't bring myself to eat. All I want is to come to work and carry on as normal but I can't. I want to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom but I can't. I want to climb out of this stupid chair but I can't!" Sara's eyes were filling with tears now. Brass gazed at her, unable to find any words. "I don't want anyone to know. Except now I've told you. And I can't be strong unless you are. Call me selfish, but I feel like I have enough to worry about without having to worry about you."

"You worry about me?" Brass could not believe what he was hearing.

"I worry about you worrying about me." Sara managed a small laugh, using the back of her hand to scrub tears from her face. "And I'd rather not have to."

"I didn't realise."

"That I'd rather not?"

"That you were worrying about me. I'm sorry."

Sara smiled, her tears drying up. "Now you ask me what you can do for me."

Brass looked straight into her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually there are two things." Brass nodded without a sound. "Stop blaming yourself. Please. This is not your fault. Enough hurt has been caused through this accident without guilt getting the better of you."

"Ok." Brass did not drop eye contact as he agreed.

"Are you sure? Because we went through this before." Sara needed confirmation.

"I promise."

Sara nodded, businesslike. "The second thing; you do not tell anyone what I have said to you in here. Especially Grissom. He thinks I'm coping and I want him to go on thinking that. He's already wearing himself out supporting me. If he heard what I've told you he would never leave my side. I don't want him to become the next casualty of the accident."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Coping."

Sara averted her gaze and focused on her lap. "That's beside the point."

"Not to my mind it isn't."

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"You know, I think there's a third thing," Sara replied.

"What's that?"

"Don't worry about me."


End file.
